Top Banana
by The Huntress1
Summary: Odd title, I know. Darwyn Cooke's New Frontier-verse. A sort of challenge-fic that takes place the night of Ted "Wildcat" Grant's victory party in Las Vegas. After two years apart, Bruce wasn't about to leave without seeing her...


**Disclaimer: Very much a period piece, though that's not really the main point. I should add that as Golden/Silver Age Selina's abusive ex-husband is never named, I have taken the liberty of christening him. And, in keeping with vernacular, "Philadelphia Story" and "Breakfast at Tiffany's"-wise, he was indeed an absolute rat. All recognizable characters must report to DC Comics.**

*Las Vegas, 1957*

If he could have merely climbed to the window he might have cut his ascent time by twenty minutes. This being Las Vegas and he being Bruce Wayne, it might look more than a little conspicuous to be leaping from one balcony to another. So he walked, stubbornly, doggedly up the stairs. All forty-two flights. A cake walk, but in the event he ran into someone on the top floor—some bellhop—he might at least huff a little. He raised a hand and mussed his hair, puffed his cheeks in an effort to redden them. He had to look tired, annoyed. He had to look as though he didn't appreciate the manned elevators being closed this time of night.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway, finding it mercifully empty. No need to concoct any lazy explanations. No need to do anything but walk to her room. To do anything but knock discreetly upon her door. Once, then thrice. And to do as he did now, to feel his breath hitch, to remember to tighten his face and stand up straight.

He made sure his smile was positively lecherous, but his eyes…they met hers with a certain softness.

Greeting him politely, she stepped aside and let him pass. She closed the door and they were alone.

--#--

A long time had passed since the days when they kept secrets from one another. Even the champ didn't see her like this, at least not often. She stubbed out her cigarette and ran a hand over the little cream colored cap, nodding with a smile as she passed the wig stands, "Draw up a chair baby. Take a load off."

His brow curled and she had to remember what it was like to be around someone who wasn't fast, who didn't keep a hoard of hangers-on past sundown. Ted was swell, but he was slowly but surely turning his attentions towards Dinah. She felt like getting out before she was pushed. She felt like going home.

She leaned over the dressing table and began to peel the false eyelashes off, "Why don't you sit at least? The sofa or something." Then she braced her hands on the tabletop, feeling his stare, his vague caution, "Don't worry. Wildcat's out. I couldn't have him busting the place apart just because you were here."

He folded his hands together and frowned, "I wasn't worried about Grant."

Selina stood up straight and nodded, "Me. I know. I know."

He turned and let his eyes wander over the room, "Nearly four. You must be tired."

She nodded, "No worries there," she glanced at a bottle of prescription amphetamines on the nightstand, "Ted's doctor thinks I've been in a rut, a drag."

"Do you use them?"

She shook her head, "I flush one down the toilet every morning. I might have a cup of coffee now and then, but…after all, Teddy's doctor doesn't know about Catwoman and he's not going to. And Wildcat's retired anyhow. Appearances."

She felt him relaxing slightly and he gave a smirk, "I know something of appearances."

She removed the cap and shook out her hair and she heard him suck in his breath. A trifle self-conscious she began to ruffle the chestnut locks, "I know, I look like I just crawled ashore from a shipwreck."

He gave that little half-smile of his and crossed the room, setting his hands on her arms, "You look beautiful," and he gazed into her eyes again, "You've been drinking though."

"Just champagne and that wore off hours ago."

He tapped her nose with his forefinger, "Not completely."

She eased free and finally allowed herself to touch him. His figure was just as unyielding and hard as she remembered and she wrapped her arms about his neck. In her bare feet she had to stand on tip-toe, "I am tired Brucie…I think I'll be coming home soon."

He glanced about the large, lived-in suite, "What? And leave all this?"

She nodded her forehead against his chin, "I've been following the news on you as well as your other half. Batman gets around quite a bit but I suppose it's at Bruce's expense."

"The reverse could be said for Selina and Catwoman."

She frowned then and pulled away, "Is that why you came up? To tease me?"

He looked somewhat odd and she realized with only a little embarrassment that when she'd pictured him these past two years it was in the costume, not as he was now, in a slightly rumpled tuxedo.

He was grimacing, "I missed you and I realized just how much so when I saw you with Grant…I can't imagine you…enjoy being here…with him."

She nodded, "For a while, I did. But you know I don't discuss the men I've known. Not even with you. Only Donny and _that's_ only because he was an absolute rat."

She rolled her shoulders and enjoyed the feeling of being watched, "I will tell you I'm bored stiff. I've even taken up smoking as I've nothing to do with my hands. He's forbidden it…if I so much as even look at the mask."

Bruce appeared genuinely amused, "And to think, all of this time I merely had to command that you give it up."

She gave him angry little look, "If I'd given it up as you say, you wouldn't be standing here today. You'd be dead or worse."

All pretense of humor left his face and he straightened again. The kryptonite business and Superman, he knew. But it wasn't like her to dangle past deeds over his head, good or bad.

She moved to untie her dressing gown and stopped, somewhat remorseful, "Are you staying the night? Ted won't be back tonight, painting the town red and all, and even then I won't see him until tomorrow afternoon—if then."

Bruce felt unsure; the majority of his playboy act was just that: an act. He rarely indulged in what most people of his and Selina's class called _naughtiness_, to be overlooked if discreet. He doubted, however, that Grant would be as understanding. Then he balanced on his heels for a moment before moving to undo his cufflinks, "What would you have me do?"

Selina took a deep breath and strode to the door. Checking that it was locked and bolted she returned to him, "I might have you hold me."

He untied the cinch and peeled away the dressing gown, letting it fall around their feet before drawing her close, "Is that all?"

She pressed the length of her frame against him and let their lips meet for a moment. Then she shook her head, closing her eyes, "Not even."

"To bed?" his voice was thick in her ear.

She gestured toward the adjoining room and he lifted her into his arms in one smooth motion. A hint of guilt flickered in her mind for a moment as she thought of Ted, but she knew he was probably chasing Dinah around her room at the Stanhope across town right that very moment.

Then she laid her head on Bruce's shoulder. She never had to worry about where his interest in her lay. A laugh was buried somewhere deep in her chest. If one didn't count Gotham City, she was always his steady girl. Top banana as it were.


End file.
